


Harry The Helpful Ghost

by tempolarriefics



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Ghost Harry, Ghost Sex, Hand Jobs, Human/Ghost relationship, M/M, Spectrophilia, Teensy Mention of Ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22490617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempolarriefics/pseuds/tempolarriefics
Summary: “I just like to help.”Louis blinks at the ghost in shock. “Were you the one who fixed the lights yesterday as well? And made me food?”“I helped you,” Harry says simply. He raises his eyebrows, nodding towards where Louis’ hands are folded in his lap to cover his erection. “Could help you out with that as well, if you wanted.”Or, the one where louis buys a house that may or may not be haunted and harry just wants to be helpful.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 42
Kudos: 272
Collections: HL Kink Festival 2019





	Harry The Helpful Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Lorina](https://harryeatsburger.tumblr.com/) for your endless support and for the masterpiece of an inspiration that is your [ghost au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21255764/chapters/50609297/). Thank you to [Alexa](https://hogwartzlou.tumblr.com/), my writing buddy, for our writing sessions which are the sole reason this fic is able to come to light. Thank you to [Molly](https://wallstagram.tumblr.com/) for running this fic fest and being patient with me when I woefully underestimated the time I would need to finish this.
> 
> This fic is written for the [HL Kink Exchange](https://hlkinkexchange.tumblr.com/). If you aren't a fan of reading about ghosts or sex, then this probably isn't the fic for you. For everyone else to which that doesn't apply... I hope you enjoy. xx

“Should we do one last check?”

Louis smiles, shaking his head. “If it makes you feel better, Liam. We’ve been checking it all day, though, if you think about it.”

Liam tugs worriedly at the hem of his shirt. “I know, but it just feels like maybe there’s something we missed.”

“Let’s do it then,” Louis says, clapping his hands together. Truth be told, he’s not ready to be done with this house just yet either.

Florence, as they’ve decided to name the house, had started off incredibly run down. She was barely a house, with thin walls and no support – a pet peeve of Liam’s. He’s convinced that if they hadn’t come along, the entire place would have collapsed at the next gust of wind. The wallpaper had been yellowed and peeling, the tile floors stained and cracked, and random chunks of the ceiling inexplicably missing entirely.

The previous owner had passed away, allowing Louis and Liam to buy Florence for an incredibly cheap price from his family. He had been an eccentric man, as far as they can tell. His family said that he had grown paranoid in his later years and had taken his fears out on Florence many times. The front door had bullet holes in it from when he thought he had heard a burglar, the master bedroom had been barricaded off with planks of wood hammered haphazardly across the doorway, and the guest bedroom had a series of seven complicated locks which had been manually (and poorly) installed. All of this plus the typical issues of rotting wood, cobwebs, and dust throughout the place had made it one of their more dire fixes.

Liam walks outside, calling out, “From the top, yeah?”

Louis follows, voicing his agreement. “Front entrance?”

Liam pulls out the house key, testing it on the front door for the umpteenth time as Louis watches on. The entrance is nearly unrecognizable. The entire front porch had been rotted when they bought it– one of the steps had even caved in when Liam put his weight on it for the very first time. They had taken it out, using less temperamental materials than wood to reconstruct a quaint set of steps leading up to the doorway. The door itself had been ornate in its design, save for the three bullet holes through it. As such, they’d opted to refurbish it instead of replacing it, hoping to capture some of Florence’s original charm.

“I think a bird pooped on the window since we last checked,” Louis comments absently, spotting a white stain on one of the otherwise polished windows, “but everything else looks great.”

“Damn it,” Liam grumbles, pulling a rag out of his utility belt and trying to wipe it off without smudging.

Louis’ ringtone goes off just then, the stock marimba tone chiming loudly from his pocket. An unfamiliar European number greets him, which is odd considering that they had moved from London to the U.S. years ago. No one calls him from Europe anymore, except his mum.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Louis?” A female voice comes across the line. “I’m Jess.”

“Jess, hi. Yes, this is he. Can I help you?”

“I certainly hope so,” Jess says, sighing. “Listen, I met your mum at the grocery the other day and she told me that you buy houses and fix them up?”

“That’s right,” Louis says, smiling at the mention of his mum. Jay has always had a knack for befriending strangers. “Me and my partner, Liam.”

Liam makes a face from near the window, mouthing, “We’ve talked about this,” to him and looking cross.

“Er, my work partner, I mean,” Louis clarifies for Liam’s sake, rolling his eyes at his friend. “Not like a _partner_ , just a part-”

“I’ll sell you my house for one pound.”

“-What?” Louis cuts off his rambling about clarifying the lack of a romantic relationship between him and Liam. “One pound?”

“Yes. It’s located in a small town outside of London, so the location is great. It’s got an older style but it’s a charming place, really.”

“Well, that sounds too good to be true,” Louis says with a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “What’s the catch?”

Jess sighs. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Er, not really,” Louis answers honestly.

“Does your work-partner?”

“Liam, do you believe in ghosts?”

“I mean, I don’t want to say no in case any are around to hear me, but-”

“I think he does, yeah.”

“Well, it’s haunted.”

Louis pauses, pulls the phone away from his hear to blink at the screen in confusion for a moment, and turns to face Liam again. “Liam, do we want to buy a potentially haunted house?”

“No!” Liam says. “Why the hell would we want that?”

“It’s got a prime location outside of London. And it’d only cost us one pound.”

“One pound?” Liam asks, fumbling with his rag in shock. “Like a singular pound?”

Louis nods.

“How haunted are we talking?”

“Er, Jess?” Louis asks, lifting the phone back to his ear. “How haunted exactly is it?”

“He’s a friendly ghost for the most part,” Jess replies. “So, are you in?”

“Friendly ghost?” Louis offers to Liam.

“I mean for a pound… I guess we might as well,” Liam reasons.

“Alright, we’re in,” Louis tells Jess.

She breathes an audible sigh of relief, promises to forward him some more information, and hangs up with a decisive click.

“Well, Li,” Louis says, “I think this could be either our best or worst investment ever.”

-

It’s not a far drive from the London Heathrow Airport to the address Jess had given him, and Louis spends most of it jamming out to the radio.

The signal gets worse as he draws closer, bursts of static cutting into the countdown of this week’s top 40 songs. It’s clearly a very small town, the road growing increasingly narrow and bumpy as he approaches.

“Not far now,” Louis murmurs to himself as he passes a roundabout, a sign posted directing him to the first exit. He wishes, not for the first time, that Liam was here. Louis has never prided himself on being a particularly good driver, and three years driving on the other side of the road has certainly not done him any favors.

But Liam is still across the ocean, driving on the same side of the road that Louis has grown accustomed to. For some reason, finding buyers for Florence had proved to be more challenging than expected. They’d gotten a couple of cheap offers from locals who had seen the transformation occur, and who likely still have a misconception of what Florence is like. Liam is convinced that if he stays behind to hold open houses and ramp up the buzz about the house, he can get a better sale.

Louis believes he can do it. He’s done it before, after all. It’s not that this is the first time they’ve split up to get things done – one of them finishing up a previous job and the other getting a head start on the next. It’s just that this time, the house is supposedly haunted.

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Louis says aloud, with a firm resolve that he doesn’t entirely feel.

Most likely, it’s some neighborhood kids who wanted to prank Jess and took it a little too far. Maybe it’s some old fixtures in the house creaking and banging, nothing Louis hasn’t dealt with before. Certainly, it’s not a ghost.

The rental car GPS announces that he is approaching his destination, and sure enough, the fog clears to reveal a small house up ahead. The perk of living in a small town, it seems, is that the houses are very spread out. Louis isn’t sure exactly how much property his one-pound deed of sale accounts for, but the grass surrounding the house seems to stretch on for at least a kilometer.

“Hello there, mate,” a cheerful voice calls out as Louis pulls the car up next to the kerb. He’s parked a little too far from the kerb to call it a good job, but close enough that it doesn’t desperately need fixing.

“Oh, hi there,” Louis calls back, getting out of the car and locking it.

A man with a button-down shirt, khaki shorts, and a wide smile on his face is standing a short distance away from where Louis had parked, holding a knapsack full of papers. He laughs when Louis meets his eyes and extends a hand. “I’m Niall, the mailman. You’re new around here, aren’t ya?”

Louis smiles and shakes his hand. “You can tell already?”

“You don’t really need to lock up around here,” Niall explains, motioning to Louis’ car. “Small town and all. Not much crime.”

Louis considers the house waiting for him, and wonders if its doors are locked. If not, it would make it even easier for neighborhood hooligans to pretend that the place is haunted. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” Niall affirms. “Of course, if it makes you feel better, go right ahead.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”

“So what brings you out to our neck of the woods? Visiting?”

Louis gives Niall a sidelong glance. He looks genuinely curious, blue eyes wide and a kind smile curled at his lips. “I’m here to fix up a house. This one right behind you, actually.”

Niall’s eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise. When he speaks, his voice is unexpectedly squeaky. “Really?”

“Yeah. Hey, you haven’t heard any rumors about the place, have you?” Louis asks. If Niall is a local, maybe he’ll know if there’s any truth to Jess’ claims. “The old owner mentioned some… strange things.”

“Oh, mate,” Niall says, looking sympathetic, “those aren’t rumors.”

“What do you mean?”

Niall shakes his head. “Everyone in town knows that place. It’s haunted. Been haunted for as long as I can remember. No one lasts very long living there.”

“You’re taking the piss.”

“I’m not,” Niall insists. “Serious as ever. Jess moved in not even a month ago and I think after her first week living there, she skipped town to crash with her parents instead.”

“One week?” Louis splutters. “She said it was a friendly ghost.”

Niall shrugs. “Never met the ghost myself, so I couldn’t tell you. But there’s something weird about that house. There always has been.”

Louis sighs.

“Oh, well that makes you the new owner, doesn’t it?” Niall asks suddenly, twisting to reach into his bag and rifling quickly through its contents. “Here,” he says after a moment, producing a small white envelope, “mail for you.”

“Cheers,” Louis says, taking the envelope. “If I ever meet up with Jess, I’ll pass it along to her.”

Niall chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s not for Jess.”

Louis blinks in surprise, turning his attention to the envelope in his hands. Sure enough, it’s addressed to H. Styles, whoever that is. When he looks up again, Niall is walking along the path back towards the center of town.

“See you around!” Niall calls over his shoulder with a friendly wave.

Louis waves back, still a little confused, and tucks the envelope into his pocket. He can deal with that later. For now, he has a haunted house to face.

-

Louis is admittedly nervous as he walks up to the house, although it looks perfectly normal on the outside. He tests the front door, wondering how much truth there is to Niall’s words. It’s locked, which is a good sign. He roots around in his jean pockets for the keys, pausing to press his ear against the door to listen for any abnormal sounds before unlocking it.

“Hello?” Louis calls as he enters, just in case.

Silence greets him in return.

The house is dark and dusty with the occasional cobweb, but otherwise there is no sign of anything creepy. Louis does a quick walkthrough familiarize himself with the layout.

It’s a fairly simple two-story house and although it is clearly quite old, it seems to have been well taken care of before it fell into neglect. The structural supports and major fixtures seem to be in good condition, which will make his job much easier. Although, he supposes that perhaps the hardest part of flipping this house won’t be the repair itself, but the sale. After all, if the entire town is convinced it is truly haunted, who will buy it?

Louis dismisses the thought. “Cross that bridge when you come to it,” his mum always says, “otherwise, you might worry so much that you won’t ever reach the bridge.”

Having done a quick walkthrough of the house, he retraces his steps more slowly to take stock of what sort of repairs will need to be done, notepad in hand.

The front door seems flimsy, as if it is barely hanging on its hinges and could easily be kicked down. Niall had mentioned that the town was practically crime-free, but Louis certainly wouldn’t feel safe with only this thin door between him and the outside world. He marks it down with two stars next to it to indicate that it’s a high priority item.

The entryway to the house leads into open space, with a living room area to the left and a massive dining room to the right. There is an unusual amount of furniture and other fixtures left behind by Jess, or perhaps even the previous owner. The living room has two ratty sofas (both of which look as though they have been collecting dust for decades), an ornate coffee table (which actually looks to be quite valuable), and an ancient television (so dated that the screen is small and square and there are two large antennas sticking out the top).

“How old is this?” Louis muses aloud, wandering over to the TV out of curiosity.

The remote is coated in dust, and he presses the ‘on’ button fully expecting for the TV to be nonfunctional. To his surprise, there is a burst of static on the screen. He tries flipping through the channels but doesn’t seem to be able to get anything else to come in. It’s entirely possible that the antennas are positioned wrong, but Louis can’t be bothered to fiddle with it right now.

The dining room has a surprising amount of fine china, although it doesn’t seem quite like a complete set. Louis doesn’t take the time to count everything out, but at a glance there seem to be far less plates than cups, bowls, and utensils. There is a large table taking up nearly the entire room, and other than some mild rotting at the bottom of its legs, it seems to be in good condition as well. It is far too big for the room, though, and Louis has to suck in his stomach to be able to squeeze past it. There are no chairs, which is odd, but not necessarily a problem. Louis will most likely be getting rid of the table anyways.

The dining room connects to an objectively beautiful kitchen. It’s probably the most well-kept room in the entire house. The cabinets and drawers are made of a rich, dark wood and the countertops are a sparkling white. There’s no sign of dust or dirt, even on the pots and pans which are stowed away.

“Maybe Jess started cleaning here, before she decided she didn’t want the place,” Louis says to himself. He drags a fingertip along the countertop, nodding as he sees it is clean when he lifts it again.

He swings open the fridge door, blinking at what he finds inside. It’s fully stocked, with far more food than Louis can imagine is possible for one person to eat. He wonders how long the food has been there and if it’s even safe for him to have. It looks fresh enough, though.

The stairway is cramped with a low ceiling, and Louis bangs his head on the way up. A few of the steps creak horrendously when he puts his weight on them, and Louis hesitates, nearly certain that the wood is about to collapse beneath him. Somehow, the stairs hold him up, and Louis manages to make it to the second floor without incident.

None of the lights work, though whether that is an electrical problem or the result of Jess not paying her utility bills, Louis doesn’t know. There had been enough natural lighting on the first floor for this to not be immediately noticeable, but now Louis has to use his phone flashlight to be able to see.

The second floor is much smaller than the first, composed entirely of a master bedroom and a small office room. At least, Louis assumes it’s an office room. The lack of furniture inside it makes it somewhat hard to tell. The only item in the room is a singular wooden chair, which doesn’t provide much of a hint as to the room’s intended use. There’s no closet, though, which he would expect if it were meant to be a second bedroom.

The master bedroom, on the other hand, is fully furnished. It’s a large room, consisting primarily of a large bed, complete with two duvets, fresh smelling sheets, and a frilly bedskirt. There is a wooden nightstand next to it, though when Louis tugs open the drawer, it’s empty. The small bathroom attached to the master bedroom is fairly basic, and Louis is just grateful it has running water.

The light outside is fading fast, and Louis realizes his walkthrough of the house must have taken more time than he originally thought. He goes back out to the car to get his duffel bag, figuring he can sleep inside the house for the night. He and Liam have done so plenty of times before. The only thing that gives him pause is that the house is potentially haunted. Maybe he’d be better off sleeping inside his car.

He rings Liam from the car, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Liam, bless him, picks up right away.

“Hey, Lou, how’s the new place?”

“Not too shabby, actually,” Louis replies honestly, although he feels himself subconsciously exhaling with relief at the sound of a familiar voice.

“That’s great,” Liam says, sounding genuinely excited by the update. “Won’t be too hard of a job, then?”

“Nah, not compared to some of the other stuff we’ve done,” Louis shakes his head. “Ran into a local outside though, and apparently the entire town really believes that it’s haunted.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They’re a small town, though, so I’m sure the rumors spread quickly.”

“Seen anything weird yourself?” Liam asks, sounding thoughtful.

“Not yet,” Louis says, before realizing the phrasing isn’t exactly confident. “I mean, no.”

Liam chuckles. “Alright. I’m sure it’s fine, Lou. Probably some neighborhood kids playing a prank.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees. He’s not sure why, but there’s a lump in his throat he can’t quite seem to get rid of.

“After all, ghosts aren’t real,” Liam says reasonably. Then, less reasonably, “Although, just in case, try not to do anything that would anger it.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Liam. That’s comforting.”

“Sorry!” Liam says, followed by a sheepish laugh. “You’ll be okay. You can call me at any time, yeah?”

“It’s stupid to sleep in my car, right?”

“Right. It’s a small town, you said. Imagine the rumors about you if you spend your first night hiding out in your car.”

Louis nods, although he knows Liam can’t see him. “Good point.”

“Goodnight, Lou. Go get ‘em!” Liam encourages. “Not… that there’s anything to get, of course.”

Louis chuckles. “Alright, Li. Goodnight.”

He hangs up with a click, locks the car behind him, and squares his shoulders as he faces the house in front of him. It’s just a house, he reminds himself. He has done this dozens of times with various other houses, most of which were in far worse condition than this one.

For a split second, Louis swears he sees a pale face in the window upstairs. It’s a boy, he thinks, with bright eyes and wavy hair. When he looks closer, eyes wide in shock, the face disappears as if it was never there.

Louis gulps. His right hand slides into his jacket pocket, gripping his phone. It feels silly to call Liam again, though. After all, it was probably just his mind playing tricks on him. There’s no way a neighborhood kid snuck into the house while he was standing right in front of it. And it’s certainly not a ghost, because ghosts don’t exist. It was probably just a trick of the light.

And yet, Louis can’t shake the image of two bright eyes staring back at him.

-

Louis can’t sleep.

The master bedroom door has a separate lock on it, which is comforting. But Louis is laying in an unfamiliar bed – the floor looked dirty and the bed is clean and bug-free as far as Louis can tell – and he can’t sleep.

The house creaks and groans of its own accord, and every time it makes a sound, it startles Louis awake. He’s used to old houses, of course, but something about alone in one that might be haunted leaves him restless.

He considers calling Liam again, but not being able to sleep doesn’t really qualify as the sort of thing that is worth waking him up for.

He drifts off a couple of times, only to be woken by a sudden creak of the house that sends his heart racing. Every time, he clutches the duvet close to his chin and waits, eyes wide and ears perked, for any sort of sign that someone else might be in the house. Every time, there is none.

There is nothing to see but darkness, and nothing to hear except the sounds of the house, the rustling wind outside, and the beating of his own heart.

-

He must fall asleep eventually, because the next thing he knows, late morning light is filtering through the tattered curtains and into his eyes.

The first thing he notices, after the fact that it is somehow morning, is that he is hungry. The second thing he notices, is that he is hard. His dick is laying flush against his stomach, begging to be touched.

Louis blinks down at himself, a little surprised. It’s more than his usual case of morning wood, and nearly impossible to ignore. He supposes it makes sense since this is the first night in a few weeks that he hasn’t been sharing a room with Liam, but still.

He wraps a hand around himself, gasping softly at the feeling. He hasn’t even started moving his hand and already his nerves are alight with the sensation of the touch. God, he can’t remember the last time he felt this much of a need to get off.

Louis starts moving his hand, twisting his wrist as he works up and down his dick. His mouth falls open and he bites back a breathy moan before remembering that he is alone, so he doesn’t necessarily need to be quiet. He drops his inhibitions, not bothering holding back any more noises as he continues jacking himself off. Precum builds quickly at the tip of his dick, and he swipes his thumb over it to use it so he can slide his hand smoothly over himself. That feeling already is nearly orgasmic.

Then, there is a loud creak, as if someone is walking in the hallway just outside his door.

Louis falters his movements, sitting up halfway to look at the door. He tugs the duvet over his lap, partly expecting the prankster in charge of faking the haunting of this house to burst in.

As his breathing evens out again and his foggy mind clears, he remembers that there is a lock on the master bedroom door and he definitely locked it before going to sleep last night.

There’s no one there, he tells himself. And even if there is, they can’t get in here to barge in on his wanking session.

His boner, ever inconvenient, has not faded, so Louis lays back again and resumes his motions. His left hand reaches up to tweak his nipples – one of his biggest turn-ons – in an attempt to get back in the mood.

It takes him a little while to get back in the right headspace, but before long he is again panting out, heart racing, feeling near his orgasm. He can tell it’s going to be a good one, maybe even one of his best ever, just based on the way the tension has built up in his body. It feels so good, teetering on the edge, that Louis tries to draw it out for himself. He groans, just about to find release and come, when there is a loud ding.

Louis groans in a different way, whipping his hand away from his dick and yanking the duvet back up to cover him decently. Thoroughly frustrated and disappointed, he glares at the door as he strains to hear if there are any more sounds. What the hell was that? It sounded almost like his mum’s old toaster oven, but surely that can’t be. Is someone… in his kitchen?

He knows he should probably go investigate, but his dick is demanding his attention. He’ll make it quick, he tells himself, taking his dick back into his hand. He tries not to think about how there might be someone else in the house, but part of him finds the possibility incredibly arousing.

The house gives a loud creak just as Louis gives the final tug on his dick to push himself over the edge, spurting thick and white on his stomach.

“Oh god,” Louis whispers to no one in particular as he catches his breath. He slaps a hand around the nightstand until he lands on the tissue box to wipe himself decently clean.

Tugging on a pair of sweatpants and, as an afterthought, a t-shirt, Louis tentatively unlocks the bedroom door and pokes his head out. There’s no sign of anyone around, but it smells suspiciously of coffee.

Louis follows the scent down the stairs and into the kitchen, fully expecting to find the neighborhood menaces gathered around, scheming, and drinking coffee. Instead, he is greeted by an empty kitchen. After a quick check around the other rooms, it seems that the house is entirely empty. The only thing that is different from the night before is that on one of the kitchen counters, there is a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Next to it, is a large mug of steaming coffee.

Louis blinks.

“Hello?” he calls out. “Is anyone there?”

No one answers. Even the house itself, with its incessant creaking, is silent.

“Did you… make me breakfast?” Louis asks loudly, hoping someone will appear and assure him that the food is indeed for him.

This time, the house groans. It’s probably a coincidence, though.

Louis bends down so he is at eye level with the counter to inspect the plate of food. It smells delicious, and it doesn’t look like anyone has messed with it. He sniffs the coffee carefully. Nothing seems off about it, but he still feels wary.

What if there are weird hallucinogenic drugs in the food? Maybe the previous owners of the house would eat this food and then they started thinking they saw ghosts.

Then again, Jess did say that it was a friendly ghost. Maybe the ghost likes to make breakfast for people.

_No_ , Louis reminds himself, _there is no ghost._ After all, ghosts aren’t real.

So then the most logical theory is that the neighborhood menaces pretending to haunt this house decided to do so by preparing him a breakfast? It’s silly to even think about.

Either way, no matter how good the food looks, Louis knows he can’t eat it. He pours the coffee down the sink and dumps the food into the trash, albeit reluctantly. It’s a shame to waste it, but he can’t risk his sanity right now.

A moment later, the house gives a loud groan, one that Louis can’t help but think sounds almost mournful.

-

The door jangles overhead as Louis walks into what seems to be the only restaurant in the entire town.

“Welcome,” a man at the front counter says with a soft smile. “First time here?”

Louis blinks down at himself, unsure how he has managed to immediately come off as a newcomer, then shrugs and nods.

“Table for one?” the man asks. He has dark hair, brown eyes, and an aura of perceptiveness about him, as if he has taken one look at Louis and seen right through him.

Louis nods, and the man guides him to a cozy booth by the window.

“Our menu is a bit complicated, so let me know if you need any help with it,” he says, placing a thick multi-page menu in front of him. “Also, we don’t serve sushi or barbecue before noon, and we’re out of curry.”

“Er… okay?” Louis says, taking the menu.

He is initially confused, but after flipping through the menu pages, he starts to understand. This restaurant makes up for being the only one in town by attempting to serve nearly everything one could possibly want. There’s a section in the menu for nearly every type of cuisine Louis can possibly imagine.

And yet, Louis can’t help but find himself wanting breakfast food. In particular, he’s craving the exact sort of food he just threw in the trash earlier.

Luckily, the menu includes a sizeable breakfast section. The server doesn’t bat an eye when, out of the wide variety of foods available, Louis orders a simple scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.

Actually, he seems to be more than just the server. After Louis orders, he disappears into the back kitchen only to emerge with a steaming plate of Louis’ requested breakfast food.

“Here you are,” he says, setting down the food with a flourish. “My name is Zayn, by the way. Feel free to let me know if you need anything else, or even if you just want to talk about things to do here while you’re visiting.”

“Thanks. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Louis,” Louis introduces himself. “And that’s a very kind offer, but I’m actually here on business.”

Zayn’s eyebrows raise a fraction. “Mind if I ask what sort of work would bring you out here?”

“Real estate,” Louis answers, deliberately vague. “Just fixing up a house north of here to be sold, is all.”

Not entirely unexpectedly, Zayn’s face contorts into an odd expression. “The haunted house?”

“Well,” Louis says, trying to keep his expression easygoing despite the sinking feeling in his stomach. “I’ve heard that from a couple of people already, but surely it’s just some local kids fooling around.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, but the stricken look on his face doesn’t fade either. After a moment, he stammers out, “Look, I know we don’t know each other, but I feel like I should tell you…”

Louis’ eyes widen. “Tell me…?” he prompts, though he’s almost sure he already knows where this conversation is going.

“It’s real,” Zayn says, solemn. There’s not a trace of anything in his features that suggests he is being less than sincere. “I’ve lived here for my entire life, and ever since I was little, strange things have happened in that house. Neighborhood kids are a good excuse for a short-term haunting, but this has been going on since before I was born, even.”

“So you’re saying there’s really a ghost living there?” Louis asks, feeling somewhat incredulous. That’s impossible. Surely Zayn is a reasonable man who understands that ghosts don’t exist.

Zayn shrugs. “Not in so many words. But I am saying that if I were you, I’d get out of there now. As soon as you can.”

-

Louis stops by the store on the way back to buy supplies: additional locks, fresh wood, and some sandwich materials.

He spends his afternoon securing the front door, the back door, and even the door in the master bedroom that leads out onto a small balcony. Then, he goes around to each window in the house and makes sure it is securely bolted shut and inaccessible from the outside.

He takes a break for a peanut butter sandwich after that, and texts Liam to assure him that he is alive and well.

Then, he really gets to work.

He starts by trying his hand at the apparent electrical problems within the house. The upstairs seems to be the only area affected, as none of the lights or outlets there work when Louis tests them. The downstairs and all appliances there seem to be fine, though.

Louis isn’t an electrician by any means. If there’s a serious problem, he and Liam will budget to hire a professional. If there’s a minor problem, Liam is the one to try his hand at it, analyzing the various wires and making sure everything is hooked up properly. Louis, however, hardly has any idea what to do.

He tries resetting the circuit breaker, which unfortunately doesn’t result in any changes. When he takes the next step of unscrewing the metal panel covering the various electrical wires and removing it, he’s sure he visibly pales.

“How the fuck am I meant to fix _this_?” he mutters, debating facetiming Liam for help.

Electrical advice via video chat sounds dodgy at best, so Louis moves on to other things that he actually knows how to do. He strips the fading wallpaper from the walls, and sands down the rough bits to be painted over later. He fixes the stairs, prying off the horizontal tops and inserting new supports inside so that the wood doesn’t dip or creak when stepped on. He deep cleans the bathroom, scrubbing mould out of the grout between the tiles on the floor and in the shower.

It’s a long day of hard work, and by the end of it Louis is exhausted. His stomach rumbles eagerly for food, so with some resignation he picks up his keys, fully intending to make another trip out to Zayn’s restaurant.

However, when he walks past the kitchen on his way out, what he sees there makes him stop dead in his tracks. Another freshly cooked meal is waiting for him, the food steaming from where it is set on a plate in the middle of the counter. It’s pasta, topped with a generous amount of cheese and with a side of garlic bread. Quite frankly, nothing has ever looked more delicious.

Louis can’t help but feel a little nervous at the fact that someone, somehow, has managed to prepare this food for him without him noticing, especially with all of the new locks he has installed. Maybe there are secret passages within the house that Louis hasn’t yet found which are allowing someone access without his knowledge. That thought isn’t much more comforting than that of a real ghost living here.

Louis stomach gurgles at the smell of the food wafting through the air, interrupting his spiraling train of thought. He grips his keys as he tries to steel his resolve. Again, he probably shouldn’t eat this food, for all of the same reasons as he outlined just this morning.

It takes all of his willpower to slide the pasta off of the plate and into the trash, placing the empty plate on top of the one from earlier in the sink.

Before going to Zayn’s, he pops into the shower to quickly clean up. When he comes out, there is a sad face drawn in the steamy reflection of the mirror. Louis checks the lock on the bathroom door twice after that, and makes a mental note to not ever wank in the shower.

-

Louis had hoped to sleep easier now that he has installed his own locks on all of the doors to the house, but the pasta incident leaves him feeling nearly as nervous as the previous night. He locks the bedroom door, the balcony door, and triple checks the new locks he installed on the main door and back door to the house.

He sleeps lightly, unable to fall into the type of deep slumber his body craves, and wakes early. The sun isn’t even up when he opens his eyes, finding himself unable to sleep any longer. When he rolls over to check his phone, the time reads 5:30AM.

He is hard, again, and unbearably so. After yesterday morning’s wank, Louis had expected his body to be relatively satisfied. And yet, here he is, just as hard as the previous morning.

Just as Louis is about to flip back the duvet and wrap a hand around himself, the house gives a long groan. He freezes.

Damn it. That probably means he’ll have to reinforce the entire hallway upstairs as well. And if that’s not the part of the house that’s creaking, Louis doesn’t know how he’ll even begin to go about fixing it. This train of thought is enough of a distraction to kill the mood a bit, and he slips out of bed and into the bathroom for a cold shower.

Louis flicks the bathroom light switch, his tired brain forgetting that the lights don’t work upstairs, before reaching for his phone to turn on the flashlight. But, to his utter surprise, the lights flicker on without complaint, bathing the bathroom in a warm, yellow glow.

“Um,” Louis says aloud, staring at the light switch in shock. All he had done yesterday was reset the circuit breaker, and he had checked the lights after doing so as well as again before bed. They definitely hadn’t been working.

Shocked, he walks back out into the bedroom and down the hall to test the other upstairs lights. As he steps into the hallway, the light flickers on above him without him even needing to flick a switch.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Louis mutters, taking an alarmed half step backwards.

When he walks into the office room, the same thing happens. The lights turn on instantly, with no action required on his part. Fortunately, when he goes to flick the switch to turn the lights off, they obey, flooding the room in darkness once more. Hesitantly, Louis flicks the switch again. The room is immediately bathed in light again.

Louis shakes his head, not entirely sure this isn’t a dream. Again, he debates calling Liam, but it’s still not even six in the morning and Liam will kill him for waking him up at this hour for anything less than a total emergency.

“Maybe I should go back to sleep,” Louis says to himself, scratching his head as he walks back across the well-lit hallway. “Maybe then this will all be a dream.”

The temptation of being able to shower without using his phone flashlight for light wins out, so he ends up taking a cold shower to will away his boner, making himself some peanut butter toast, and getting to work on the upstairs floorboards.

-

Louis spends the morning working upstairs, and by noon he has successfully eliminated the creaking floors. He spends the afternoon on the front door, removing the flimsy wood there from its hinges and replacing it with a new door which looks similar in style, but is much sturdier.

As such, Louis is absolutely sure that no one has entered or exited the house all day. Everything has been locked up securely, other than the front door which Louis removed, but he was standing near or in the doorway for the entire time it was compromised.

So when he finishes up, locks it, and walks into the kitchen, he yelps at the sight of the oven on.

Louis certainly hadn’t touched the oven. He never cooks if he can help it, and especially not inside a house he is trying to improve. Him cooking would surely set back any remodeling progress by days with potential fires and definite messes.

Louis might not know much about how to cook in the kitchen, but he does know that the oven needs to be turned off right away. He rushes over to do so, and just as he turns the knob to ‘off,’ a timer dings somewhere nearby.

Curious, he peeks inside the oven. Inside is an oval wrapped in tin foil, which he pulls out with oven mitts and unwraps to reveal a baked potato. When he turns around, a plate with sour cream, green onion, butter, and bacon bits is laid out on the counter. It definitely wasn’t there when Louis rushed into the kitchen minutes ago. And a human person definitely did not walk into Louis’ house with a plate of potato fixings and set them next to him without him noticing.

Louis gulps.

It seems that there is indeed a friendly ghost around.

He sucks in a sharp breath, turns on his heel, and flees to the safety of his car.

-

Liam isn’t answering his phone.

Louis has gone to voicemail twice already, but damn it, he’s calling again. Louis has just discovered that there really _is_ a ghost in the house, so the least Liam can do is listen to him rant about it and give him advice on what to do next.

“Hi, you’ve reached Liam. Leave a message after-”

Louis hangs up and grinds his teeth together.

He’s still sitting in his car an hour later, head in his hands rested on his steering wheel, when he hears a tapping on the driver’s window next to him.

Thinking of the ghost, he lets out a girly shriek and jumps in his seat, flinging his hands up uselessly in some semblance of a protective position.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” comes an Irish voice that Louis recognizes, muffled through the glass.

“Niall?” he asks, lowering his hands and looking out the window to see the smiling mailman waving sheepishly at him. He rolls down the window quickly, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “It’s, uh… good to see you?”

“Are you alright?” Niall’s blue eyes are full of concern and Louis realizes just how bad he must look - sitting motionless in his car, obviously distressed, for who knows how long.

“Erm… I don’t know, honestly.” Louis looks down at himself, shaking his head to clear it. “I didn’t believe you before, about the house being haunted. But now I think I do,” he pauses, thinks over his words for a moment. “No, now I definitely do.”

“Ah,” Niall says knowingly. “Did you meet the ghost?”

It says a lot that he can ask this with a completely serious expression. Louis feels himself go pale. “No… not, er… not yet, I guess.”

“Well, you said you heard it’s a friendly ghost at least. Like Casper or summat, eh?” Niall says cheerfully.

“But a _ghost_ , Niall,” Louis says, running a hand through his hair and tugging at it harshly. “That’s crazy. Have I gone crazy?”

“Well, I have to admit you do look a little crazy right now,” Niall says honestly, amending hastily as Louis groans in frustration, “but everyone here thinks that house is haunted!”

“So you’re saying that we’re all crazy,” Louis says flatly, raising a dubious eyebrow.

“I’m saying that you’re not alone,” Niall tells him. “Will it help if I come back inside with you? You can gather some stuff for the night and crash on my couch if you want.”

Louis sighs, feeling a little better at the thought that there is an alternative to spending the night alone in a haunted house. “That’s really nice of you to offer. I think I’ll be okay, though.”

“Alright. Offer stands, though, okay?” Niall says, making eye contact with him and nodding so that he knows he means it. “I’ll swing by again tomorrow to check on you.”

Louis almost tells him not to bother, that it’s too much trouble to ask of a near-stranger, that he’ll be fine. Almost. “Thank you, Niall. That means a lot.”

“Sure thing. Oh, and I almost forgot! Here’s the mail.” Niall hands him an envelope through the car window, again addressed to H. Styles.

Louis takes the letter from him, pockets it, and gets out of the car, squaring his shoulders. After all, he has already spent two days and nights living in the house. The next day will surely be more of the same, right? Mysterious creaking, lights, smiley faces, and food – he can deal with that.

He waves to Niall and then walks back inside, being sure to lock the front door firmly behind him. He’s almost certain it’s impossible for a prankster to be behind the strange things he has witnessed today, but it can’t hurt to take precautions anyways.

“Hello?” he calls out, tentatively.

There’s no answer, not even in the form of the creaking of the house.

The baked potato has gone cold on the counter, and Louis unceremoniously adds it to the bin of other rejected foods from his stay here.

He nods to himself in satisfaction and gets back to work on remodeling, determined. Although he isn’t able to fix the heater, he doesn’t encounter any other weird occurrences for the rest of the day. All in all, he counts it as a win.

-

Louis wakes up in the middle of the night, but slowly. It’s not a sudden lurch into awareness like in the middle of a nightmare, but rather a gentle tug, a quiet beckoning for him to wake up.

As he drifts into consciousness, he becomes aware of how intensely aroused he is. It’s maddening, as if all of his body’s attention is focused on his cock, which he can feel pulsing against his stomach with need. It probably would have helped if he didn’t ignore his hard-on yesterday. Now it seems to be back with full force.

Once he manages to overlook the throbbing of his cock, he realizes that the back of his neck is tingling inexplicably with the feeling that someone is nearby. Yet, he doesn’t feel scared. In fact, he feels safe and content, except for the way his dick is begging to be touched.

Louis forces his eyes open, just to check. After all, better safe than sorry.

The room looks the same as it was when he went to sleep. The same dark shadows are cast onto the walls, no new shapes or movement present. Then, Louis looks upwards. And there, he finds something different.

There is a man floating near the ceiling, his back to Louis. He is holding what looks to be a screwdriver in his right hand - and the reason Louis can see that although his back is facing him is because he is partially translucent.

As Louis’ brain catches up with what his eyes are seeing, he sucks in a sharp breath. Floating. Translucent. That must mean…

“Holy shit. You’re a ghost.” It comes out without Louis intending it to.

The ghost drops his screwdriver and whirls around to look at Louis, an alarmed expression on his face. The screwdriver lands on the floor with a hollow thud.

His eyes are green - Louis can tell even though he can also see the white plaster ceiling behind them – and right now, they are filled with panic.

He’s a _pretty_ ghost, Louis realizes with a start. Maybe his state of arousal is biasing his thoughts, but the man floating in front of him is incredibly attractive. He has wavy brown hair, bright green eyes, and a sharp jawline. He looks as if he has walked right out of one of Louis’ wildest dreams.

That reminds Louis: maybe this is a dream.

He pinches his arm, hard. It hurts.

Then, he looks back up at the apparently real ghost hovering above him. He is frozen in place, a look of alarm still etched on his strong features.

“Alright, mate?” Louis asks. Oddly, Louis feels compelled to comfort him. It occurs to him that this is probably not the normal reaction to seeing a ghost, but, surprisingly, he doesn’t feel frightened at all. His heart is pounding a little faster than usual, but otherwise he feels normal.

“You can see me,” the ghost says. His voice is deep, and the words come out so slowly that Louis can’t tell whether it was meant to be a question or not.

When the ghost doesn’t say anything further, Louis offers up, “Yeah, I can. Is that… not usually how it goes?”

The ghost shakes his head and the uneasy look on his face relaxes into a pleased smile, dimples appearing at his cheeks. “And you can hear me.”

“Yep,” Louis says, smiling back.

“Can I…?” the ghost asks, floating down to the side of Louis’ bed. “Can I touch you?”

Louis knows the ghost doesn’t mean it inappropriately, not when he’s looking up at him with innocent excitement in his wide eyes, but his mind can’t help but wander a little at the words. After all, he is naked and hard in his bed. Realizing the ghost is still looking at him expectantly, Louis shakes his head to clear that train of thought from his mind. “Er… sure?”

The ghost reaches out tentatively, slowly brushing his fingertips over the top of Louis’ hand and down his fingers. The touch is cold and featherlight but comforting all the same.

Louis shivers. “I can feel you.”

“Wow,” the ghost breathes, launching himself backwards in a happy twirl. Once he’s facing Louis again, he says, “Oh! I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Harry.”

“Louis,” Louis says, extending a hand.

Harry’s eyes light up and he flies forward eagerly to take Louis’ hand in his own, shaking it with a surprising firmness. “Nice to meet you,” he says, beaming.

“You too,” Louis says politely. Then, just because he has to be sure, “So… you’re really a ghost?”

Harry chuckles, hovering in a sitting position in front of him, cross-legged. “I really am.”

“A friendly ghost?” Louis asks, although he’s fairly certain the answer is yes.

Harry shrugs. “I just like to help.”

“Harry the helpful ghost,” Louis says, almost teasingly. “It’s got a nice ring to it.”

Harry makes a face, but his reply is cut off by a rumbling from deep within the house.

Louis jumps at the sound, startled. His sudden movement causes the duvet to shift, nearly causing him to flash his newfound supernatural friend, but he grabs at it hastily to cover his lap just in time. “Is that…” Louis asks as the sound continues, accompanied by what feels like warm air blowing out of the vents, “the… heater?”

But surely that can’t be. The heater is broken. Louis had tried all evening to get it running to no avail.

Harry doesn’t say anything.

Louis rounds on him, remembering how when he had first woken up, Harry had been tinkering with a screwdriver on the ceiling. “Did you fix the heater?”

Harry shrugs again, repeating, “I just like to help.”

Louis blinks at the ghost in shock. “Were you the one who fixed the lights yesterday as well? And made me food?”

“I helped you,” Harry says simply. He raises his eyebrows, nodding towards where Louis’ hands are folded in his lap to cover his erection. “Could help you out with that as well, if you wanted.”

Louis feels his cheeks go red. He had been willing it to go down ever since he first realized he wasn’t alone, but his cock seems to have other plans. It certainly doesn’t help that an extremely attractive boy is now bringing his attention to it. An extremely attractive _ghost_ , he reminds himself, and that’s why he stammers out, “Uh, no, that’s um… that’s not necessary.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, dropping one eye in a slow wink. “I’m _very_ good with my hands.”

Louis swallows, his eyes flicking down to Harry’s hands before he can stop himself. His hands are large, with long slender fingers and short nails painted a pale pink. Louis averts his eyes quickly, but not before Harry catches him looking and gives his fingers a suggestive crook.

“Quite sure,” Louis says, ignoring how the words sound stilted to his own ears.

Harry tilts his head to the side curiously. “Is it because I’m a guy? I didn’t mean to assume…”

“No, no… that’s uh, preferred, actually,” Louis says, feeling his cheeks heat a little.

“Oh,” Harry says, his smile returning. “Good. Hmm… then is it because we’ve only just met?”

Louis shakes his head, thinking of the times he has picked up fit boys while out clubbing, the meaningless, nameless blowjobs swapped in club bathrooms. “No, that’s… I’ve done that before.”

Harry looks genuinely confused, his face twisting into a pout. “What is it then?”

Louis gapes at him, not sure if he is serious. “You’re a ghost, Harry.”

Louis had expected that to be the end of the discussion, for Harry to make some sound of realization and joke about how silly it was of him to have forgotten. What he doesn’t expect, is for Harry to challenge, “So? Does that make a difference?”

“Yes!” Louis splutters, his mouth opening and closing again as he tries to find the right words. “I mean, I’m… and you’re… it wouldn’t _work_.”

Harry looks thoughtful. His gaze is unwaveringly on Louis, as if he is scrutinizing him. Louis squirms a little at the attention, but resolutely maintains eye contact. “Is that really what you’re worried about?” Harry asks after a moment. He lowers himself so that it appears that he is standing on the ground and takes a step forward. “That it won’t work?”

Louis’ throat feels suddenly dry. Harry is still a respectable distance away from him, but Louis’ nakedness beneath the blanket seems to negate that fact. Now that Harry is standing like a normal person, he seems more real. It’s almost as if he is just another person – and a devastatingly handsome one at that. “Well, I mean… I suppose it might work.”

Harry steps forward again. It’s a small movement, and he does it slowly so Louis knows that if he told him to, he would just as willingly back off. And yet, Louis’ breath hitches in anticipation at the proximity. “You can feel me,” Harry says, reasonably. He reaches a hand tentatively towards Louis’ arm. “And I can touch you. Sounds like it will work to me.”

“It feels wrong,” Louis says, and Harry freezes, his hand not yet having reached Louis’ arm. “That you’re a ghost, I mean. I can’t touch you back, can I?”

A small smile comes to Harry’s lips, but it looks almost sad. “If I focus on where you want to touch me, you could,” he explains, “but you shouldn’t worry about that.”

“Well,” Louis says, studying Harry closely.

The ghost looks back at him patiently, a kind smile curled at his lips. His arm is still outstretched towards Louis’ own, his hand hovering a centimeter away from his skin. He seems content to hold it there, not going any further without Louis’ permission.

Louis appreciates that. It’s all a bit much to process, especially in the middle of the night. After all, it’s crazy of him to even be considering having sex with a ghost, isn’t it? And yet, it doesn’t feel crazy, not when Harry is here in front of him, smiling gently. He already knows it won’t be a quick and dirty job, not like some of his past hookups. The way Harry is looking at him makes Louis feel like his intentions are different, like Harry wants to take care of him. And isn’t that better than backroom sex with a stranger whose name he doesn’t even know?

Still, Louis isn’t convinced this is a good idea. In fact, it’s definitely a bad idea. He is just about to turn Harry down when he realizes what will happen if he does. Harry will probably say something nice, reassure him that it’s okay, and leave. Then, Louis will wank alone, thoughts of green-eyed ghosts and long fingers running through his mind.

Louis feels a blush rising to his cheeks. And well, if he’s going to get off thinking of sinfully pink lips and smirks punctuated with dimples anyways… why not have the real thing?

“I… okay,” Louis says, feeling inexplicably embarrassed at having made his decision. After all, Harry certainly isn’t judging him for it.

Harry’s smile widens a fraction, his dimples deepening slightly. Other than that, he doesn’t betray any of his own thoughts, just raises his eyebrows and says, “Okay? Tell me what you mean by that.”

“I mean that I’d like it if you… helped me,” Louis says, flushing even more red. “Helped me by touching me, I mean.”

“You would?” Harry asks, a teasing lilt to his voice now. He smiles, finally letting his hand rest on Louis’ forearm and fluttering his eyelashes at Louis in faux innocence. “Like this, you mean? Touch you here?”

Louis exhales softly, trying to ignore the goosebumps that appear on his skin under Harry’s fingertips. “That’s not… quite what I meant.”

“No?” Harry asks, sidling a step closer. He traces his fingers lightly up Louis’ arm, over his shoulder, and along his collarbone. “Here, perhaps?”

Louis shivers. Still, he feels his confidence bolstered by the way Harry is looking at him, playful yet full of desire. “I was hoping for somewhere a bit lower, actually,” he says, aiming for a casual tone.

“Ah, so like this?” Harry asks just as coolly, walking his fingers down to Louis’ left nipple and teasing around it.

Louis bites back a whimper, his nipple hardening and the feeling of it sending a zip of pleasure straight to his dick. “Even… even lower, actually,” he manages to say, admittedly a little short of breath.

“Oh, but I think you’re enjoying this as it is,” Harry tells him, a knowing gleam in his eyes. He continues flicking idly at Louis’ nipple, clearing enjoying the way it makes Louis’ breath hitch each time.

“Yes, but,” Louis gasps, “I’ll enjoy it even more if you touch me in other places.”

“Well in that case,” Harry says, moving away from Louis’ sensitive nipple to place both hands on his shoulders and guide him backwards to lay down on the bed, “you lay back and relax while I bring you some…” he pauses, his eyes roaming over Louis’ torso as he seems to consider his next word, “enjoyment.”

Louis complies, leaning back against his pillow without protest.

Harry swings a leg over him to straddle Louis’ waist, his movement made graceful by the lack of a physical body to get in the way. It’s a visually arousing sight, Harry sitting on top of him like this. And yet, it’s also confusing, to see someone straddling him without the accompanying feeling of the weight of a man on top of him.

Before Louis can analyze the sensation further, Harry interrupts his thoughts by slipping a hand behind his head, running his fingers through his hair. He leans forward so that his face is hovering over Louis’, the closeness offering insight to a range of expressions reflected on his semi-translucent face. All-consuming lust, a spark of mischief, a trace of melancholy, and overwhelming, inexplicable affection all gaze down at Louis at once.

Harry’s hand makes its way to Louis’ face, cupping his cheek. “Kiss me?”

Louis doesn’t need him to ask twice. He surges upwards, keeping his eyes open just until he feels Harry’s lips brush against his own. Their noses don’t bump, probably because Harry isn’t focusing on his nose and so their noses can’t touch - but their lips certainly can. Harry’s lips are impossibly soft and cool to the touch, and he kisses Louis with such care that the rest of the world falls away. With his eyes closed and Harry’s lips pressed tenderly against his, it feels like a meaningful moment, the kind one wouldn’t expect to happen in the middle of a ghostly hook-up – that is, if one had the foresight to expect such a thing in the first place.

Louis finds himself smiling into the kiss, pleasantly surprised when it turns out that Harry is able to focus on his physical form enough to bring his tongue into the mix. They deepen the kiss, a searing heat developing between them despite the natural chill of Harry’s body. It’s incredibly hot. Louis’ dick is harder now, if that’s even possible, and he wonders absently if Harry is able to feel it against him without focusing on the part of his body it rubs against.

When they pull apart, Louis is breathless.

“I didn’t think I’d ever kiss someone again,” Harry whispers. He says it conversationally, like it’s simply a fact, but there’s a trace of sadness there, a hidden echo which seems to wonder if perhaps this time, it really is Harry’s last kiss.

Louis opens his mouth to say something comforting, but before he gets a chance, Harry shakes his head, smiling and saying in a much lighter tone, “Didn’t think I’d ever suck a dick again, either, but here we are.”

The start of a laugh escapes Louis without him meaning for it to. He catches himself, biting his lip to hold it back. After all, surely it’s a bit of a sore topic for Harry, even if he’s joking about it.

But Harry doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, there’s a smug twinkle in his eye that suggests the exact opposite. “I like it when you laugh,” Harry says. “I’d like to hear you laugh again, sometime.”

Louis feels his face flush with color. “Oh,” he says, caught a little off guard by the sincerity of Harry’s comment, “well, thank you.”

Harry nods. “But first,” he says, an impish smile sneaking back onto his face, “I’d like to hear you make some other sounds, if you know what I mean.”

Louis rolls his eyes at the line, fully prepared to make fun of Harry for it, to say _“no wonder you thought you’d never suck someone’s dick again, with lines like that!”._ But then Harry’s hands, which have been making their way down his torso as they spoke, push the duvet back to reveal his cock and any retorts he might have made disappear from his mind.

“May I?” Harry asks, ever polite, scooting himself down into a better angle.

“Please,” Louis says, sucking in a sharp breath as Harry finally wraps a hand around him where he wants it the most.

Harry begins working his hand up and down, the motion smooth yet firm. It’s different than any handjob Louis has ever received, his hand gliding so easily that Louis can’t even tell that it’s dry. There’s also a stark contrast in temperature between the heat radiating from Louis’ body and the cool touch of Harry’s hand. It feels incredible, a wonderful tension building up inside of him.

Instinctively, Louis reaches to touch Harry, wanting to run his fingers through his hair. His hand goes right through the curls, his fingers suddenly feeling as if he has plunged them into cold water.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Louis gasps out, quickly retracting his hand.

Harry looks up at him with a lopsided grin. “’S alright,” he assures him languidly. “Doesn’t hurt or anything.”

Louis nods, opening his mouth to apologize again anyways. But then, Harry twists his hand just so and Louis’ back arches off of the mattress, his hands scrambling to grip the sheets. The only thing that comes out of his mouth is a cry of Harry’s name.

“That’s better,” Harry says with a smug smile. “You were thinking too much.”

Louis moans, unable to find words to reply, not when Harry’s hands are on him like this. One hand has set a firm rhythm up and down his dick while the other fondles his balls, squeezing them playfully. It consumes Louis, his entire body focused on the feeling.

The pressure building up inside of him is nearing the tipping point, leaving Louis torn between craving sweet release and yet not wanting this to end.

“Are you close?” Harry asks lowly, his eyes flitting over Louis’ face, presumably to determine the answer to his question.

“Yes,” Louis manages to say. “Yes, so fucking close.”

Harry hums in acknowledgement, continuing his hands’ ministrations. A wicked smile flashes across his features for a moment and he says, “Part of me wants to not let you come yet, but I suppose I did say I would be helpful.”

Louis groans, the thought of going unsatisfied nearly unbearable at his current level of arousal. “No, please,” he begs. “Please don’t stop.”

“I also said that I would suck your dick, didn’t I?” Harry asks, not acknowledging Louis’ pleas. “Would you like that?”

The answer is yes, but the thought of Harry with his lips wrapped around his dick - bobbing up and down enthusiastically, his eyes locked on Louis’ own – sends him over the edge. His hips stutter and he lets out a moan as he comes, spurting over his chest. Harry strokes him through it, his motions slowing once Louis finishes.

“You,” Harry murmurs lowly as Louis catches his breath, “are the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Louis blinks up at him, his mind foggy in post-orgasm haze. Unsure how to return the compliment, he opts to return the sexual favor he has received instead. “C’mere,” he says, reaching a hand out towards Harry’s hip, but not quite touching him. “Let me help you, now.”

Harry gives him a small smile and shakes his head. “You should get some sleep,” he says. “I don’t want you to get caught up in this moment now and regret it in the morning.”

Louis pauses. Now that his body is no longer overwhelmed with arousal, he feels exhaustion beginning to overtake him. Harry is right that he isn’t fully thinking things through right now, but he is sure that in the morning he won’t regret a thing. He tells Harry as much, but Harry is adamant.

“Goodnight, Louis,” Harry says, giving his wrist a gentle squeeze before floating upwards and away from the bed.

“Will I see you again?” Louis asks, reaching out for Harry’s hand before remembering that he can’t grab onto him.

“If you’d like to,” Harry answers, a hopeful smile on his face.

“I’d like to,” Louis says confidently.

Harry nods, but doesn’t say anything else, just continues rising upward. Louis watches as he floats through the ceiling, and then stares at the ceiling for a little longer in case he decides to come back.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but it’s the best night of sleep he has had in years.

-

When Louis wakes up, his phone tells him that it’s nearly noon. He rolls over in bed to look out the window, the world outside foggy and cold. Thankfully, he is cozy in bed, covered in blankets and under the warm air from the heater. Wait – the heater?

Louis bolts into an upright position as the events of last night come rushing back to him. Sure enough, there is dried cum on his stomach, a screwdriver on the floor, and hot air coming out of the ceiling vent.

So, it wasn’t a dream.

Louis considers calling out for Harry right away, wondering if he would be able to hear from wherever he is. Unanswerable questions rush through his mind, one after another. Knowing he won’t be able to get the answers until he talks to Harry, Louis forces himself out of bed and into the shower to clean up.

When he comes out of the bathroom, showered and dressed, he stands in the middle of the bedroom and shouts, “Harry? Are you here?”

There’s no answer.

Worry begins to pool in the pit of his stomach. Maybe Harry is the one with regrets about last night. Maybe Harry isn’t visible to Louis anymore, and so he isn’t able to get his attention. Maybe Harry can only interact with him on certain nights or at certain times, and this isn’t one of them.

There’s another possibility, too, one he doesn’t even want to think about. What if Harry wasn’t real and this house has made Louis go insane?

Louis shakes his head, hoping to clear it.

He makes his way downstairs, feeling disappointed and trying to occupy his thoughts by planning what renovations need to be done today. He should start with the furniture, removing what he plans on selling and getting the rest out of the way so that he can begin repainting the walls. If he can get all of the painting done today, he’ll count it as a wild success.

Louis walks into the kitchen with a sigh, reaching for some bread to make himself peanut butter toast. He freezes, his arm halfway to the loaf of bread in the cupboard but his eyes unable to look away from something on the counter. There is a plate of pancakes there, topped with syrup and whipped cream.

“Harry?” Louis calls out hesitantly, looking around.

“Over here,” a familiar deep voice replies.

Louis spins around to face the direction from which he heard it, but he doesn’t see anyone there. “H? Where are you?”

“Here,” Harry says, sounding as if he is directly in front of him.

Looking closer, Louis sees that Harry is indeed directly in front of him. The outline of his body barely shimmers in the sunlight, his features far more transparent than the night before.

“Oh,” Louis breathes as his eyes finally lock on Harry’s, “I didn’t see you there at first.”

“It’s a bit trickier to in the daylight, I’d imagine,” Harry says.

Louis squints a little as he studies Harry’s figure in front of him. Harry is just as attractive as the night before, if not more so. The only thing that is different about him from Louis’ memory, is that he looks extremely nervous right now. His arms are wrapped tightly around his body and his lips are red as he bites down on them anxiously. His gaze flits around the room rapidly, seeming to look anywhere but at Louis.

“Are you alright?” Louis asks, his eyebrows furrowing together in concern.

Harry lifts one shoulder in a shrug, still avoiding Louis.

Louis tilts his head to the side worriedly, unsure of what to do. “Well,” he says slowly, “thank you for making me breakfast.”

Harry seems to brighten up a tad at that, probably pleased that one of his meals will finally make it into someone’s stomach rather than into the rubbish bin.

“And for last night,” Louis adds.

That gets Harry’s attention. His head whips around, his eyes wide and frenzied as he meets Louis’ gaze. He hesitates for a moment before asking slowly, “You mean that?” 

“Of course,” Louis says easily, nodding. “It was some of the best sex of my life, honestly.”

Harry visibly relaxes into a more assured version of himself, his shoulders straightening and his arms falling to his sides. “Really?”

“Yep,” Louis says, “and considering it was only a handjob, that’s high praise.”

Harry’s lips turn upward, landing somewhere between a smile and a smirk. “Does that mean you’d like more than a handjob?”

Louis flushes red, his mind eagerly supplying memories of how good the previous night had been. “If you’re up for it.”

Harry grins. “I’d be happy to help.”

-

In the end, the pancakes go uneaten.

Harry takes Louis’ hand, tugging him into the dining room and pushing him back so that he is sitting on the table, legs spread just enough for Harry to slot his body in between.

When their lips meet this time, it’s familiar, and Louis parts his lips to run his tongue along Harry’s right away. He wants to pull Harry closer, wishing he could feel Harry’s body pressed up against his, but settles for gripping the edge of the table. Harry kisses him so deeply that after a while, Louis barely notices he isn’t able to hold him.

Harry pulls back for a moment, just long enough to pull Louis’ shirt off over his head.

“You too,” Louis urges in a whisper, his fingers passing through the loose sleeve of Harry’s shirt.

Harry complies, revealing defined muscles that ripple when he moves and outlines of tattoos that Louis has to squint to see. He tosses his shirt to the side, and it lands on the floor in a faintly visible heap of fabric.

Harry runs one hand down Louis’ bare chest, pausing to circle Louis’ nipples, while the other presses against Louis’ crotch, palming over him through his pants.

Louis whimpers, finding it surprisingly difficult to be on the receiving end of such attention and yet unable to return the touches.

Harry trails his lips along his jaw, down his neck, and over his collarbones, alternating between open and closed mouthed kisses. From there, he continues kissing down Louis’ chest and over to his right nipple, taking it into his mouth and sucking gently.

Louis moans, squeezing the table more tightly. “Harry…”

Harry doesn’t reply, his mouth understandably otherwise occupied. He swirls his tongue around Louis’ nipple before pulling off and giving the same treatment to the other, all the while rubbing a hand over Louis’ hardening dick.

“Take off your pants, yeah?” Harry asks after releasing Louis’ nipple from his mouth. His hands continue to roam over Louis’ torso, as if he can’t bear to stop touching him.

“Yeah, you too,” Louis says in agreement, scooting off of the table to tug his trousers and pants down his legs. He kicks them off fully and onto the floor, standing completely bare in front of Harry. Louis feels somewhat self-conscious for a moment, but then Harry joins him, pulling off all of his remaining clothes as well.

Harry looks as though he is drinking the sight of him in, his eyes dark with lust. Louis stares right back, letting his eyes wander over Harry’s body. Although less opaque than a human would be, Harry is otherwise just like any other person. Well, his body looks like that of a model, but he also looks like a perfectly normal human. Louis takes him in from his broad shoulders over his toned muscles and smooth skin down to his dick, hard and leaking already.

Louis wonders what it would be like to suck Harry’s dick. Then, he wonders what it would be like to have Harry’s dick inside of him. He hopes he gets the chance to find out.

Louis starts to compliment Harry but before he can say anything, Harry drops to his knees in front of him.

“Oh my god,” Louis says instead. It’s not what he had meant to say, but he figures words wouldn’t be able to do Harry justice anyways.

Harry looks up at him, taking Louis’ dick in one hand and his balls in the other and making sure to hold eye contact as he begins to fondle him. He makes a show of opening his mouth and extending his tongue, bringing his face teasingly less than a centimeter away from the tip of Louis’ dick. He’s smiling cheekily around his tongue, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Fucking tease,” Louis hisses, biting back a groan at the sight.

“You like it,” Harry says, punctuating the statement with a flick of his wrist around Louis’ dick.

Louis can’t argue with that.

Fortunately, Harry decides to put him out of his misery, licking over the head of Louis’ dick sensually before taking him fully into his mouth. Louis can’t help but let out a noise at the feeling, his hands automatically reaching to grab at Harry’s hair before he remembers that he can’t. Cursing, he brings his arms back to his sides, settling for digging his nails into his thighs instead.

Harry takes him all the way, his nose nearly brushing against Louis’ pelvis as the back of his throat nudges against Louis’ cock. He is enthusiastic as he sucks Louis’ dick, bobbing up and down eagerly and not seeming to mind when he occasionally makes himself gag on it.

Harry looks up at him, and Louis whimpers as their eyes lock. Harry simply gazes back at him, his pupils dilated and his lips stretched around the girth of Louis’ dick.

“Harry,” Louis breathes, the word barely coherent.

Harry raises an eyebrow before breaking the eye contact, redoubling his efforts in building up a rhythm as he bobs up and down. It’s a little sloppy, tears trickling out of Harry’s eyes from gagging around Louis’ dick and spit dribbling down his chin, but that only makes it hotter.

“Harry,” Louis says again, more urgently this time. He wants it to last much longer than this but can feel that he won’t be able to. “Harry, I’m gonna come.”

Harry hums around his dick in acknowledgement and squeezes his balls gently before slipping his hand back farther. He runs a finger from the base of Louis’ balls back towards his arse, teasing light circles around his hole.

The feeling tips Louis over the edge, his eyes rolling backwards and fluttering shut as his body floods in pleasure.

It takes Louis a moment to recover. When he opens his eyes again, he realizes that he can feel Harry’s hands steadying him at his hips. He blinks down at the ghost, a tired smile coming to his lips.

“Thought you might collapse for a second there,” Harry says, squeezing his hips lightly.

Louis’ legs do indeed feel quite jelly-like. “Good thing I’ve got you to catch me,” Louis replies. “You’re really good at that, by the way.”

Harry drops one eye in a wink, looking pleased with himself.

“Let me return the favour?” Louis asks hopefully, extending a hand to help Harry to his feet.

“Normally, I’d tell you that’s not necessary,” Harry tells him, taking his hand and floating into a standing position. His other hand wraps around Louis’ waist before sneaking lower, cupping his arse. “But in this case, I can think of a way that might help us both out, if you’d like.”

Louis swallows, his dick beginning to fill again. “Oh god.”

“I’m going to need a more specific yes or no,” Harry whispers, his lips brushing cold air over Louis’ ear. “Do you want me inside of you? Want me to fuck you so good that you can’t walk properly?”

Louis bites his lip, his mind already fantasizing about what that might feel like. “Yes, oh my god. Please, yes.”

Harry smiles, pumping Louis’ dick lazily to get him fully hard again. It’s certainly not a difficult task, and Louis blushes at how easily his body responds to Harry.

“I’ll go upstairs really quick?” Louis says, trying to find the willpower to pull away temporarily. “For lube and condoms?”

Harry raises an eyebrow, then drops his hands to his sides and shoots upwards, through the ceiling.

“Oh,” Louis says aloud, looking up where Harry has just vanished, “forgot you could do that.”

Harry reappears seconds later, a satisfied smile on his lips and the requested sex supplies in his hand. “Got it.”

Louis laughs. “Perks of sleeping with a ghost, I suppose,” he jokes.

Harry raises his eyebrows. “One of many,” he agrees, smirking.

“Can I…?” Louis asks tentatively, motioning to Harry’s dick.

Harry nods, smiling cheekily.

The thing is, it’s easy to forget that he’s a ghost. He’s just Harry. And just like anyone Louis has slept with, his eyes are full of depth, his smile bright and expressive, and his dick firm in Louis’ hand.

Louis moves up and down Harry’s dick experimentally, pleasantly surprised that it looks, feels, and reacts as he expects it to. Harry’s body temperature is admittedly a little on the chilly side of normal and he is somewhat translucent if you look hard enough, but otherwise it’s like any other hookup Louis has had.

No longer motivated by curiosity, Louis’ hand speeds up and Harry lets out a low groan. It’s an incredibly hot sound, and Louis thinks he’d do anything to get to hear it again.

“Do you want me to last or not?” Harry demands playfully, reaching down to still Louis’ wrist.

“Oh fine, I suppose,” Louis returns in the same tone before grabbing the condom from Harry and tearing the package open.

“A little preemptive, don’t you think?” Harry drawls casually.

“What do you mean?” Louis asks, taking the condom out and rolling it down onto Harry.

“Ought to get you ready first, I mean,” Harry says, flashing him a wink and repeating the suggestive fingering motion he made the night they first met.

Louis swallows, his mouth dry. “I… yes. Yes, we should.”

Harry chuckles, placing his hands at Louis’ waist and hoisting him onto the table. He guides Louis backwards so that he is laying down and nudges his legs apart to make room for him to stand in between.

Louis is hardening with anticipation, and he wiggles his hips in what he hopes is an enticing manner. Propping himself up on his elbows, he cranes his neck so that he can see Harry. Harry looks beautiful, the curls of his hair swirling almost artfully around the nape of his neck.

Louis watches as he pours some lube out onto his fingers, and somehow he’s still surprised at the sudden cold that teases at his hole moments later. Whether the cold is from Harry’s natural body temperature or from the lube itself, Louis doesn’t know - and doesn’t care. The anticipation that had been building in his stomach is replaced with a feeling of want, an insatiable desire, a need to be filled that only Harry can help him with.

“Oh, yes,” he hears himself say, scooting his hips forward. “More, please.”

Harry complies, circling a finger around him one last time before finally pressing it inside of him. It’s not much of a stretch, but Harry still takes it slow, moving his finger around to make sure Louis is properly adjusted to it before adding a second.

The second finger marks the moment where Louis begins to lose his coherency. Harry’s fingers are long and dexterous, and the way he scissors and curls them has Louis keening for more.

The third finger is when Louis starts making noises. He doesn’t mean to, not really, but Harry is crooking his fingers over just the right spot and the stretch of having three fingers inside of him feels so good that he finds himself moaning out without realizing it.

Harry continues with three fingers for a while, until Louis is rocking back against his fingers and urging Harry to give him more. There is a moment of emptiness as Harry removes his fingers, a soft kiss pressed against his chest, and then Harry is lining up his dick and pushing into Louis.

It takes Louis a moment to grow accustomed to the feeling of Harry inside of him – after all, Harry is quite large - but once he does, it’s blissful. Harry fills him up in a wonderful way, his strokes sending sparks of pleasure racing through Louis’ body. Harry paces himself at first, moving his hips at a noticeably slow and controlled pace. Then, after some encouragement from Louis, he increases his speed, snapping his hips repeatedly against Louis’.

Louis moans at the new pace, unable to hold it back. The feeling of Harry pounding into him is unrivaled. He can feel himself clenching around Harry in pleasure, knowing that if Harry were to touch his dick in the slightest it would be enough to send him over the edge of orgasm.

Long before either of them comes, Louis already knows that this is the best sex he has ever had in his life.

They switch positions a few times: Louis on his side, Louis on his back with his legs up, Louis bent over the table, and a few others. It turns out that having a partner who is able to fly is quite useful for sex. Harry doesn’t seem to tire out, zipping back and forth or up and down depending on the position.

Louis is on his back again, arms wrapped around his own thighs to hold his legs up, when Harry finally gasps out, “Shit, Lou, I’m close.”

He doesn’t come right away, though. Instead, he reaches for Louis’ dick, firmly twisting his hand around it as he moves up and down in time with his thrusts. As predicted, Louis doesn’t last long. It only takes a few such strokes before Louis gripping his thighs tightly as white coats his stomach. He groans at the feeling, his body clenching around Harry as pleasure washes over him.

It doesn’t take Harry long to join him, his body shuddering as he thrusts a couple more times before giving in to his orgasm as well.

Louis whimpers as he pulls out, but Harry wraps him up in his arms immediately, his body a comforting - albeit not fully tangible - presence as he holds him close.

“That was…” Louis trails off, at a loss for words. “I want to do that every day,” he settles on saying instead, trusting that Harry can fill in the highest of compliments for how good the sex was.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, somewhat shy now. “I mean… we can, if you want.”

Louis smiles, cuddling close. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he says. Somehow, he doesn’t think Harry will mind.

-

The rest of the week flies by in a blur of sex and household repairs.

Louis deep cleans the house, dusting and scrubbing while Harry floats idly next to him, chatting about whatever is on his mind. Harry’s company makes the work go by easier, and sometimes he will even chip in. Like when Louis was painting the living room, Harry handled the upper walls and ceilings while Louis did the lower parts that he could reach.

Harry is also not shy about voicing his opinion on décor. He’ll comment on new furniture Louis brings in, where to position them, and which older pieces that came with the house should be replaced next.

“They don’t call me Harry Styles for nothing,” Harry tells him one day, after insisting that the bedroom curtains need to go.

Louis had been holding up his hands to cover the curtains from his vision, trying to imagine what the window would look like without them. Hands still held out in front of him, he gives Harry a sidelong glance. “Do they? Call you that?”

Despite their growing closeness – dare he call it friendship? – Harry hasn’t revealed much about his personal life from before he became a ghost.

“They do,” Harry nods.

He doesn’t seem to want to divulge anything more, so Louis doesn’t press it. “Did you mean replace the curtains with new ones, or just get rid of them entirely?”

-

Slowly but surely, Louis does learn more about Harry.

Sometimes Harry will tell him a fact without any prompting, like when Louis was finishing the wood floors and Harry commented, “Did you know that I had a degree in English?”

Louis had blinked, looking up from the wood slowly. “No, I didn’t. What’d you use it for?”

Harry had simply shrugged and not said anything more about it for the rest of the day.

Other times, Louis will say something that prompts Harry to share a new bit about himself. Like on Wednesday, after a friendly visit from Niall in which he received yet another letter addressed to H. Styles. “Did you know I’ve been getting letters for you?”

“Did you know I’ve been stealing them out of your bag?”

“No… I didn’t. But I mean, they belong to you anyways.”

Harry had said, “They’re from my sister,” and Louis had thought to himself, _Oh… Harry has a sister._

As per usual, Harry refused to say anything more on the topic.

Still, little by little, Louis begins to put the pieces together. The thing is, he likes Harry. He wants to learn more about Harry and be able to talk with Harry about things that are relevant to him and interest him. And, of course, he’s curious.

At the same time, their companionship begins to feel like more than just that. It’s more than friendship as well. There’s an underlying tenderness in their dynamic that Louis has never felt for any of his friends. It’s too soon to try to label it, but Louis is content to acknowledge that he truly enjoys spending time with Harry, whether they are working around the house, talking with each other, or having mind-blowing sex.

Eventually, he realizes what it means.

“Hey, Harry,” Louis calls out from where he is fiddling with the TV antennas.

“Need help?” Harry asks, doing a twist midair as he floats over.

“Not exactly. I wanted to ask you a question,” Louis says, sneaking a glance at the other boy’s face.

It’s hard to tell whether Harry has paled, given his naturally ghostly complexion, but his expression certainly looks wary.

“Just one,” Louis promises, “and it’s not anything tricky.”

“Okay…” Harry concedes, crossing his legs as he hovers and looking at Louis expectantly.

“You know I’m here to sell this house, right?” Louis asks. Then, “Wait – that’s not the question, I’m just checking.”

Harry looks glum, making a face at the floor. “Yeah, I know. That’s why you’re fixing it up all nice.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, “so my question is… are you able to leave the house? In stories sometimes ghosts are like tethered to a certain location.”

Harry shakes his head. “I don’t think I can. I’ve tried.” He looks dejected for another moment before flashing Louis a mischievous look. “So I’ll be here to torment whoever the buyer is.”

Louis pauses to think for a moment, a plan forming in his mind. “For how long, do you think?”

“Hey, that’s two questions,” Harry points out, pouting.

Louis gives him his best winning smile. “Indulge me?”

Harry sighs in acquiescence, then shrugs. “I think forever,” he admits. “I’ve been here for a long time already.”

Louis nods thoughtfully. “I see,” he says, the gears of his mind turning rapidly. “Thanks, Harry. Enough with the questions, then, yeah?”

Harry smiles. “Yeah. After all, I want to enjoy the time that we have together.”

Louis returns the smile, saying carefully, “Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

Harry’s hands are on his trousers though, and the conversation is soon forgotten.

-

Once Louis has made his decision, he knows what he has to do: call Liam.

Liam picks up on the second ring. “Louis! Haven’t heard from you in ages, mate. I thought maybe the ghost really had gotten to you.”

“Well…” Louis clears his throat nervously, glancing over at where Harry is flipping through the limited channels on the telly. “Maybe not quite in the way you have in mind.”

“What?” Liam asks.

“Never mind,” Louis says quickly, taking the lead of the conversation. “I wanted to call you because I’ve found a buyer.”

He sees Harry go still out of the corner of his eye, the rapidly changing channels coming to a sudden stop, landing on BBC.

“Already?” Liam asks, sounding impressed. “That’s record time, Lou. Especially considering that the place is supposedly haunted.”

“Oh, it’s haunted,” Louis confirms. “I just finalized it, so I wanted to let you know. I’m afraid your cut won’t be very much, though.”

“Ah, well…” Liam trails off somewhat awkwardly. “That’s okay. I mean, I didn’t help at all, did I?”

Louis chuckles. “No, but we’ve got a deal. I’d still give you fifty percent, of course.”

“Oh…” Liam sounds confused. “You weren’t able to sell it for much then? You could always hold out for a higher offer, you know.”

“I know,” Louis says.

“Okay,” Liam says slowly, dragging out the last syllable. When Louis doesn’t continue, he prompts, “So how much did it sell for then?”

Louis swallows. He glances over at Harry, thinking of his warm smile, his kind heart, his tender touch. “Fifty pence.”

Liam doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He’s a smart lad, though, and Louis knows he’ll put the pieces together. “Louis… does that mean what I think it means?”

“Sure does,” Louis replies cheerfully.

“You… you’re buying it?” Liam asks, sounding disbelieving.

“I am,” Louis says agreeably, standing and making his way over to where Harry is laying on the couch, looking apprehensive but hopeful. "Surprise," he says to both of them.

Harry's eyes light up, a dimpled grin spreading over his face.

“I thought there was a _ghost_ there,” Liam’s voice protests through his cell.

“There is,” Louis says, leaning in to press a kiss against Harry’s temple. “Turns out, that’s the biggest selling point.”

-

Epilogue:

Louis moves his belongings in the next week. Liam comes around eventually, his complaints about Louis living alone in a haunted house assuaged by the delicious variety of food at the diner (and perhaps also by his massive crush on Zayn - but then again, Louis is living with a ghost so who is he to give Liam shit for such a thing?). Liam and Zayn come to hang around the house sometimes for board game nights and drinking. Niall, always seeking out a fun time, joins them occasionally, too. All is well, except for when Liam overhears Harry and Louis making inappropriate jokes with each other and launches into a lecture on spectrophilia. But still. They’re happy.

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! if you enjoyed the read, i'd love it if you helped to share by reblogging [the fic post](https://tempolarriefix.tumblr.com/post/610876825725468672/). as always, comments, kudos, and coffees are very much appreciated. xx


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